


The Animal Inside

by hurnbee



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Blood and Violence, M/M, Polyamory, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-15 16:14:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11234592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hurnbee/pseuds/hurnbee
Summary: It has been three years since the apocalypse began - Trott, Ross and Smith stick with each other throughout thick and thin, aiding each other where they can, but Smith isn't the man he used to be (no, that doesn't mean he is a zombie, I just couldn't think of a better line that wasn't so cliched, lol).





	The Animal Inside

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know how long this story will go on for - I have only written an incredibly short first chapter as a way to get me into writing again, but future chapters will hopefully be much more substantial.

He was never the type of man to be violent – people thought that because he was tall, and had a decent muscular structure to him, while fitting the masculine stereotype of an affinity with male paraphernalia, that he would be what you might consider ‘manly’ as well, but Smith was soft.

Often synonymous with weak, Smith had the emotional stability and brawn needed to avert that hideous connotation, but he never wanted to harm anyone. The most he would do was accidentally pull a hair out when rustling someone’s hair with a friendly familiar warmth, or a light punch of the arm as a cheeky and flirtatious gesture, so to see his hair matted with chunks of flesh and blood – to see his bright eyes dulled by the mindless violence he inflicted daily was a scene that Trott never found himself getting used to.

None of them ever got used to anything these days.

The morning it happened, years back, the world before their eyes seemed to flicker with that subtle marring often present in lucid dreaming – everything seemed like a carbon copy of itself; the same, yet something inexplicably different. At first, life seemed to continue as it usually did: there wasn’t an immediate lack of resources, bodies didn’t litter the streets, shop windows weren’t smashed or alternately, barred up. While you couldn’t deny that the general public seemed more cautious in their day-to-day lives, things weren’t particularly horrific either. Impending doom was, by definition, impending, so all anyone could do was wait for their fate to happen.

After about a year, the outburst seemed to be exponentially spreading as each day passed. More and more mass fatalities were covered on the news, neighbours moved to find more remote locations, and soon enough, any services that resulted in a large number of people being together, such as public transport and schools, were shut down, jobs were lost, causing the homeless crisis to increase, and furthermore, the epidemic.

An apocalypse was something the trio had always joked about due to the nature of a lot of video games they played together, but they never considered that something so quite literally sickening would ever occur in their real lives.

As Trott eyed the chunks in Smith’s hair, Ross returned from his quick trip into the village wearing a child-like grin, waving a dusty battery towards Trott’s face. He quickly slotted it into his small battered camera he clipped off his belt, and propped it up on the mantle above the fireplace. He pressed the ‘on’ button and the flip-out screen flickered on. Ross clicked once again to record, cleared his throat, and exclaimed “Good day!” toward the lens. It wasn’t as cheery as it used to sound, but Ross still managed to sound positive no matter what. Smith got up from where he sat on the living room floor, and headed for the hall, forever avoiding that haunting camera.


End file.
